


Old Enough to Know Better

by BlindtoDreams



Category: Glee
Genre: Fanservice, Fix-It, One Shot, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:03:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlindtoDreams/pseuds/BlindtoDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enlisting a high school Glee Club to determine the outcome of Sebastian's assault would not have been Blaine's first choice, if he'd been consulted. Painkillers and an impending surgery, however, eliminated him from the discussion altogether. But after six weeks, with everyone ready to move on except Sebastian himself, Blaine has the chance to rectify the error in judgment made by his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Enough to Know Better

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt call: One pairing, one word.  
> Prompt: Kurt/Blaine, harassment. 
> 
> I took liberties with this, for sure. It's pure fix-it fic, nothing but fan service and comeuppance to soothe the bitter sting of one of TVs sillier storyline wrapups.

To put it very simply, Blaine was finished listening to Kurt and the rest of New Directions.

He hadn’t said it out loud - not yet, anyway - but to be frank, he no longer believed they had his best interests at heart. Actions speaking louder than words, and all of that. What mattered most to them, from Blaine's perspective, was their overall appearance as a team and winning whatever competition came next. 

In the six weeks following his surgery, that stopped being okay.

It started with a text message from Sebastian two days after the fact, apologizing for his mistake and managing somehow to make it salacious. ‘I’d never do anything to hurt those pretty brown eyes.’

Blaine didn’t answer. He told his friends about it, his partner, but the overall reaction was one of awkwardness at the sound of his name. They were ready to move on.

“Just ignore it,” Mercedes told him.

“She’s right - don’t give in to him.” That bit of genius came from Schuester. “He’s just looking for a reaction. Don’t give him one and he’ll let it go.”

Two days later, another text. Then another. Then an email. That one, he responded to, telling Sebastian in no uncertain terms that whatever their awkward friendship had been before, it was over now.

Shock - he wasn't deterred. _Maybe_ , Blaine thought with a surge of bitterness, _maybe that’s what happens when you give somebody the impression that they can assault you without punishment, because rising above it is more_ _ _noble_._ What he wouldn’t give to go back in time, turn down the dull blur of painkillers and stop stressing about his operation to the point that he couldn’t even advocate for himself.

Sebastian made life unbearable from there. He appeared when Blaine was by himself, dropped presents off to let him know he’d found his address, left messages that Blaine, in his frustration and disgust, would thoughtlessly, furiously delete. When he came to visit his friends at Dalton, he could swear Sebastian _sensed_ it. He worked to get them alone, he found subtle but suggestive ways to touch him, put his hands on him, keep their bodies close. Blaine stopped going. He stopped doing a lot of things.

It took Blaine a while to decipher the game. The things Sebastian did to him, they were never enough to fight, they didn’t justify a fist swung or even raising his voice. But he made it worse _slowly,_ found new ways of violating Blaine’s privacy and personal space at a crawl, so that it appeared to _stay_ that way; wrong but "harmless," too trivial to combat, even if it wouldn’t have been under any other circumstances.

He was trapping Blaine in impotence, in helplessness, suspending him in a false reality where he questioned his impulses to struggle even when they needed no questioning. When he made his move, whatever it was going to be, Blaine would be conditioned into second-guessing himself, doubting his instinct to fight. He’d be easier to manipulate, confuse and shift blame onto.

That took time to put together. He wasn’t an abuser, he didn’t victimize people, he couldn’t make sense of the pattern in a day.

No, it took 5 weeks for the punchline to hit him, and another week to figure out how to teach the kid a lesson. He started saving those emails, voicemails and text messages. He made a point to mention his attempts to communicate, even when his friends were more than weary of hearing about it. He carried a recorder on him when he left the house - ace in the hole, really. Sebastian was getting aggressive, chatty, a little too confident. That tape would be difficult to ignore. No one could tell him that he was overreacting to _that._

All he had to do was find an ally. No more children his age, whose motives and loyalty were questionable at best, and certainly not Mr. Schuester, who was a child himself. His father would’ve punished with money, working through Dalton rather than the police, a useless gesture. Blaine wanted a document, a record. Sebastian had to carry the knowledge with him every day that a single misstep meant actual consequences. An angry headmaster wasn’t enough.

Thank God for Burt Hummel.

Talking him out of a tantrum when Blaine explained why no one went to the police after the attack in the parking garage wasn’t easy. He called McKinley's staff a good dozen things Blaine had never heard an adult say before, and when he mentioned that the attack was meant for Kurt, Blaine worried that he would take to the streets in search of Sebastian's car. But the storm passed with time, and Burt became exactly what Blaine needed him to be - responsible. Sensible. Even affirming.

He drove Blaine to the police station that very afternoon, waited with him while he filled out paperwork, and talked on his behalf if he became too flustered or it seemed that he wasn't being taken seriously. He made sure that Blaine’s voice was heard.

Just once, while they were waiting for an officer to speak with him, Burt asked, “You sure you want to do this?” And it didn’t hurt to hear, because he wasn’t asking if Blaine was sure he “ _didn’t want to take the high road_ ,” or “ _focus more on the competition_.” He asked because the situation demanded concern for a 17-year-old boy’s emotional wellbeing. He asked because it was a scary step to take, and an intimidating building to take it in.

“Absolutely,” Blaine answered, and straightened his stack of email printouts and text logs.

Sexual harassment, stalking and assault. _No,_ Blaine thought, a late-blooming answer to a dead and buried question, _no, you definitely don’t look like a freshman._


End file.
